


through the eyes of a fly on the wall

by vlieger



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlieger/pseuds/vlieger





	through the eyes of a fly on the wall

"Wardo's not in Singapore," said Mark. 

Chris looked up from his desk. Dustin dropped his coffee. 

"Dustin, for fuck's sake -- "

"Dude," said Dustin. He waved a hand. "Cleaners will get it. Not important."

"No, right, sorry, I have scalding hot coffee all over my feet, not important at all."

"Not as important as the monumental fact that Mark just mentioned Wardo's name for the first time since-- " He stopped. The depositions were still just as taboo a topic as Wardo. Although Mark had just flouted the taboo pretty spectacularly. Dustin flailed inwardly. Then outwardly for good measure, catching Chris around the ear. 

"Dustin, for _fuck's sake_ \-- "

"Guys," said Mark. "I think you've missed the point. Wardo's not in Singapore."

"Of course he's in Singapore," said Chris. "He works there."

"Yeah," said Mark. "But he's not there."

"Yes," said Chris. "He is."

"No," said Mark. "He really isn't. I checked. Sort of."

"Mark," said Chris. He closed his laptop. "Is the rest of this conversation going to involve discussions of anything illegal? Specifically, anything illegal you may have done?"

Mark shrugged. 

"Fuck," said Chris. "Mark."

"Aw," said Dustin. "That's sweet. It's sweet, Chris, come on! He's keeping tabs on Wardo." He paused. "Wait, that just sounds creepy."

"It's not creepy," said Mark. 

"It is a little creepy," said Chris. "Considering the guy sued you for six hundred million dollars, and made it pretty abundantly clear in the process that he never wanted to see or hear from you again."

Mark pursed his lips. "Anyway," he said, a little clipped, shoulders tight, "The point is, Wardo's not in Singapore."

Chris rubbed his temples. "I don't want to know how you know," he said. "But whatever it is, stop doing it. What I do want to know is, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Call him," said Mark. 

"Call him," echoed Chris. 

"Yeah," said Mark.

"And say what? 'Oh, hey, Wardo, Mark's just been keeping tabs on you like a creepy creepster this entire time, and apparently you're not in Singapore, so you wanna tell me where you actually are?' Somehow I don't think he'll appreciate it all that much."

"Trying to keep tabs," said Mark.

"Dude, even I can be more tactful than that," said Dustin.

Chris glared. "I'm trying to make a point," he said. "Which is that this is a stupid idea, and Wardo's fine, wherever he is, and clearly just doesn't want you to know."

"Have you talked to him?" said Mark. 

"Yeah," said Chris. "He said he was in Singapore."

"Which he isn't." Mark nodded once, like he was waiting for Chris to catch on.

"So? I don't blame the guy for wanting to get away, frankly."

"I don't want to track him down," said Mark, eyes distant, like that was exactly what he wanted to do. "Just. Call him. Make sure he's okay."

"Mark," said Chris, lowering his voice. 

"Just do it," said Mark curtly. "I'll wait here." He folded his arms. 

Dustin looked between him and Chris. "Uh, dude," he said. "Maybe you should, if you want to get any more work done today. He looks like he's ready to camp out in here."

Chris sighed and picked up his phone. "I'm not paid enough," he said pointedly to Mark.

Dustin watched him scroll through the contacts, hit 'Call Eduardo Saverin,' put it on speaker, and lean back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes on Mark. 

"Chris?" came Eduardo's voice, slightly tinny. 

"Wardo!" said Dustin, before Chris could get a word in. "How's it going, buddy? You good? Alive, clearly. That's great."

"Dustin," said Eduardo. "Uh. Hey. I'm-- great, thanks."

"Awesome," said Dustin. "We heard a rumour you weren't in Singapore, so. Just checking in."

"You heard," said Eduardo. "Where did you hear that?"

"Oh," said Dustin. He glanced at Mark. "Around."

"Dustin," said Eduardo, "Seriously, what-- "

"Wait," said Dustin. "You're _not_ in Singapore, are you?"

There was a very long silence. "My main office is there," said Eduardo. "I'm not currently, no."

"Then where are you?" Dustin leaned forward. Mark was watching impassively, eyes fixed on Chris's phone. 

"I'd-- rather not say, if you don't mind," said Eduardo. "And I'd rather you kept this quiet, too, guys. Please. As far as everyone knows, I am in Singapore."

"Wardo," said Chris. "Are you sure you're okay? Seriously, if you need help, we can-- "

"I'm fine," said Eduardo. 

"You haven't been kidnapped or anything, have you?" said Dustin. "There's not some dude holding the phone to your head with like, a gun, or something? Because if there is, dude, we will _hunt you down_ , world class hackers here, and--"

"Dustin, shut the fuck up," said Chris. 

"It's a legitimate question," said Dustin.

"I'm _fine_ ," said Eduardo. "How did you guys find out, though? I made pretty seriously sure it wouldn't get out."

"Uh," said Dustin. "I-- hacked into your-- something?"

There was a pause, loud and heavy. "Mark," said Eduardo, finally. 

"Hey, Wardo," said Mark.

"Jesus Christ," said Eduardo. "Chris, get me off speaker."

 

Dustin blinked slowly at Mark. 

"Mark," he said. "Are you _leaving the office?_ At." He glanced at his watch. "Eight in the morning?"

"I'm going to find Wardo," said Mark, shifting his duffel bag against his hip. 

"Huh," said Dustin. "Do you know where he is?"

"Sure," said Mark. 

"You're lying," said Dustin gleefully. Mark looked pained, the way he always did when he didn't know something he felt he should, and someone pointed it out. "You have no clue, and you're going on some fucked-up but totally adorable pilgrimage to find him, Mark, that's so cute!"

"Dustin," said Mark slowly, "I think you might still be drunk."

"It's like you don't know me at all," said Dustin, looking wounded. 

Chris emerged from the elevator at this precise moment. 

"Mark's going to find Wardo," said Dustin without preamble. 

Chris stopped short. After a very long silence, he said, sighing heavily and sparing a glance at the ceiling, "What have you got in that bag?"

"I don't really see how that's relevant," said Mark.

"Mark," said Chris. 

"My laptop," said Mark. He glanced at the elevators. It looked as if his bones were thrumming beneath his skin. "A hoodie, a pair of sweatpants. Underwear. My slippers. And a toothbrush."

Chris was silent. "Well," he said at last, "I guess I should be thankful you're not wearing the slippers now."

"Mark," said Dustin. "I'm genuinely worried you'll go into work withdrawal."

"I have my laptop," said Mark. 

"Are you seriously just-- going?" said Chris. "How the fuck are you planning on finding Wardo? Just wandering from country to country? That could take _years_."

"Yes," said Mark. "It's no use doing anything from here because he won't answer my calls or emails. He's not accessing his Facebook, and I'm pretty sure he's got someone else handling his expenses, but. He can't stay off the grid forever. He'll need to use the Internet sometime. Pay his taxes."

"Yes," said Chris. "And you finding out when and where is _totally illegal_."

"Oh," said Mark. He nodded distractedly. "Right. Is it?"

Chris palmed a hand over his face. "Just go," he said, "Before you incriminate us as well."

 

Dustin leaned over Chris's shoulder to read the email. 

_In Brazil_ , it said. _Wardo's cousin punched me._

"Oh, God," said Dustin. "He's going to get _killed_."

"Wait," said Chris. "There's another email."

 _Updated the profile sidebar code,_ it said. _Tell Dustin to make sure it's compatible with the modified profile layout. He's not here. This is stupid._

"Do you think that means he's coming home?" said Chris. 

"Somehow, I don't think so," said Dustin, reaching over to click open the forwarded itinerary also in Chris's inbox. "Norway," he said. " _Norway?_ "

Chris sighed, flipping out his phone. "I should've just locked him in his office," he said. 

"Chris," said Mark, when he picked up. 

"Mark," said Chris. "Why are you going to Norway?"

"Oh," said Mark. "Wardo's cousin said something after he punched me. I think he thought I couldn't hear him."

"Did he happen to say, 'Wardo's in Norway,' by any chance?" said Dustin. 

"No," said Mark. "The leads are tenuous at best."

"Oh-kay," said Dustin. "Well, you stay safe, buddy."

"Make sure you check out the new code," said Mark. 

"Yeah," said Dustin, rolling his eyes. 

"Try to keep the illegal hacking to an absolute minimum," said Chris. "Or none at all. Wouldn't that be awesome? Wouldn't you feel great, making my day like that?"

"Sure," said Mark. "Yeah." He hung up. 

"If he gets arrested," said Chris, "I want you to know that I am officially out. Sean I can handle, only just. International espionage is something I am not equipped to deal with."

"Aw, baby," said Dustin, rubbing a hand into Chris's shoulder.

 

"Hey," said Chris, answering his phone when it rang. "How's Norway treating you?"

Dustin looked up from where he was totally absolutely being productive on Chris's office couch. Coding required just as much thinking through as it did actual work. 

"You're-- Mark, wait-- " Chris stopped, blinking, and lowered the phone from his ear. "Shit," he said.

"What?" said Dustin. 

"China," said Chris. "He's in China. Jesus fucking Christ."

"Did he say why?" said Dustin.

"The phone cut out," said Chris. 

"Awesome," said Dustin. "Hey, do you think he'll take the opportunity to flout the law and get an extra billion or so Facebook users on board?"

"Oh, God," said Chris. 

"Hey, no," said Dustin. "I'm sure he'll just try to find Wardo and get out of there."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't actually make me feel any better."

"Yeah," said Dustin apologetically. "I probably should've thought that one through."

Chris's phone beeped. "He says," said Chris, scrolling through the message, "That the last couple of friends Wardo added on Facebook travel to China a lot."

Dustin nodded. "That makes sense," he said. "Totally logical course of action."

"Fuck," said Chris. 

"It's kind of sad," said Dustin. "Do you think we should tell Wardo?"

"I'm not getting involved," said Chris. "Besides, his cousin punched Mark. I'm pretty sure he'd have heard about it."

 

The thing about it all was that it really was sad. Dustin would've said something to Wardo a long time ago if he thought it would do any good, something about the thousand little ways Mark missed him, about how he still glanced up sometimes with a tiny, unmet curl of a smile, quick-fading and awful, about the tight set of resignation stiffening his shoulders. 

The way he was sorry in every way Mark could be, the tragedy of it lying in how he thought it still wasn't enough, and Eduardo thought it nonexistent. 

The thing about it all was that Dustin wasn't nearly as clueless as he let on. 

That the both of them needed to realise some things, give a little leeway, and Dustin wasn't entirely sure that this was as spectacularly stupid an idea as it outwardly seemed. 

There is no middle ground until you get to it, after all. 

 

Mark called two days later. "China kind of sucks," he said. "I can't look for him here."

"Have you considered a doorknock appeal?" said Dustin, grinning.

Chris elbowed him, a sharp cut to the soft of his belly. 

"Hey!" said Dustin. "I bruise easily, asshole."

"You're a delicate flower, noted," said Chris, rolling his eyes. 

"Dustin," said Mark, "How's the new profile stuff coming?"

"Fine, Mark," said Dustin. "You just concentrate on finding Wardo."

"I'm trying," said Mark, sounding strained. 

"Hey, at least the food's awesome, right?" said Dustin. 

"Just get some sleep, Mark," said Chris. 

"I'm fine," said Mark. 

"Whatever," said Chris. "You could've just woken up and you'd still need more sleep."

Mark was silent for a long moment. "Okay," he said at last. "Bye."

 

In the early, empty mornings, the Facebook offices were washed with light; long, sweeping heaps of it piled across the mostly unmanned floor. Dustin was sole witness to it, more often than not. He felt like it was one of those important unimportant things to take note of, since he was pretty sure no one else who was in this early did. Mark would never. The first slew of assistants were, as a rule, too harried and neurotic to slow down enough. Chris was usually already behind his desk, back to the windows, oblivious but drenched in it. Dustin stopped to admire the effect through the glass, the light spots darting lazily, winking and beatific all at once, around Chris's head. 

It was kind of apt. Dustin liked apt. He pushed through the door, coffee and spare in hand. 

"Hey," he said, setting the spare on Chris's desk and settling back against the couch. 

"Hey," said Chris. He reached absently for the coffee (cream, no sugar, just how he liked it). "Thanks."

"Assistant Awesome, at your service." Dustin saluted with his (cream, two sugars) coffee.

Chris rolled his eyes. "You seem to have missed a rather important memo, somewhere along the line," he said. "Don't you have an office of your own to go to?"

"You want me to leave?" Dustin raised an injured eyebrow.

"That would be nice, yes," said Chris.

"You're so cute when you lie," said Dustin easily, tipping his head onto the back of the couch. 

Chris sighed heavily. Dustin slanted a glance at him; his mouth was quirked somewhere just soft of a smirk, eyes on his laptop. 

"So have we heard from our little globetrotter?" said Dustin, stretching. 

"No." Chris frowned. Dustin felt kind of bad. 

"He'll remember to check in soon enough," said Dustin. "China's kind of a big place to search."

"Don't remind me, please," said Chris. 

His phone rang. He glanced at it, rolled his eyes, and threw it to Dustin. 

"Mark, speak of the devil," said Dustin, thumbing the phone onto speaker and balancing it on the arm of the couch. 

"Hi," said Mark. "Is Chris there, too?"

"Yeah," said Chris. 

"Good," said Mark. "I'm in Portugal."

"Portugal," said Chris. He lifted his caged hands from the keyboard. He looked mostly relieved.

"Yeah," said Mark. Dustin imagined he was shrugging. "He speaks the language, so. I actually think he'd like it here, you know, it's." He stopped. "Yeah. Whatever. I'm here, and now you know that. I'm going to go." He hung up.

Dustin glanced at Chris. 

"Yeah," said Chris. 

"Hey," said Dustin, "Wanna go make out in a broom closet somewhere?"

Chris threw a pad of post-its at his head. "Go find an intern to sexually harass."

"Always thwarting me." Dustin sighed. "My heart can only take so much, you know." He stood, coffee in hand, heading for the door. 

"Wait," Chris shouted as it swung closed, "I didn't mean that about the interns! If you get us sued again I'll kill you!"

Dustin waved cheerily. 

Chris cut a threatening hand across his throat, and turned back to his laptop. 

 

"There are a lot of people who look like Wardo here," said Mark, the next time he called.

"Okay," said Dustin slowly. "Weren't there in Brazil, too?"

"I expected that," said Mark dismissively. 

"So, no luck?" said Dustin, "Besides all the doppelgangers."

"I wouldn't call that luck," said Mark. "Can you send me the shortlisted layout options for the updated photo albums page?"

"Sure," said Dustin. "Look, Mark, are you sure you don't want to-- "

"I'm fine," said Mark, and hung up. 

Dustin closed his eyes. "Are you sure we shouldn't say something to Wardo?" he said. 

"We're not getting involved," said Chris with finality. "Dustin, seriously."

"Okay, okay." Dustin held up his hands. "I just feel bad for the poor guy."

"Yeah." Chris shrugged. "It's Wardo's thing to deal with, though, so."

"I guess." Dustin sighed. 

 

"Hey," said Chris. 

Dustin looked up, blinking. "Hey," he said. "Did someone die?"

"What?" Chris sat down in the spare chair across from Dustin. 

"You never actively seek me out at work unless something's gone horribly wrong," said Dustin.

"That's only because more often than not, you've commandeered my couch," said Chris.

"You're so sweet." Dustin grinned. "So what's up?"

"Mark needs to come back," said Chris. 

"I agree." Dustin nodded. 

"No, like, he needs to come back _now_ ," said Chris. 

"What? Why-- oh. The meeting."

"Yeah." Chris sighed. "He skipped out on the first half of the last one, albeit accidentally. But then he spent the rest of it wired in anyway, and it's kind of important he actually make an impression on par with the title of CEO, at some point."

"I don't know," said Dustin, twirling thoughtfully in his chair, "I think it was pretty consistent with the image of _Mark_ as CEO."

"I'm trying to tone that down," said Chris. "Just a little. Just to the extent that we keep hold of our investors and shareholders at least a little while longer."

"Okay, no, I see your point." 

"So," said Chris. "I'm just going to go call him." He exhaled heavily. 

"You're stalling," said Dustin. "I'm totally sympathetic."

"Alright," said Chris. "I'm going."

"Holler if you need help," said Dustin. 

"Maybe," said Chris, "If you promise never to say that again."

 

"Holy shit," said Dustin, stopping short on his way out of Chris's office, the day of the shareholder's meeting. "Wardo."

"Hey, Dustin," said Eduardo. 

"Dude," said Dustin, "Of all meetings to show up to, you picked the only one Mark's guaranteed to attend the full hundred per cent of the time."

"Yeah," said Eduardo. "I know."

"You know? How-- " He stopped as Eduardo glanced over his shoulder at Chris. "Seriously?" he said, "He knew you were coming? I have to say, I'm feeling a little left out, man."

"It was kind of a last minute thing," said Eduardo, as Chris pushed through his office door.

"Last minute like, did you know this when you were talking to me about getting Mark back here?" Dustin looked at Chris. 

"Maybe," said Chris. "A little. I meant the other stuff too, though."

"Okay," said Dustin. He looked at Eduardo. "Explain."

"There's nothing to explain, really," he said. "I found out what Mark was doing when he went to my family. I may have even-- encouraged some of his choices, distantly. I just needed some time to-- to see, and think, and now I have, so. I asked Chris to get him back here."

"You're going to sort things out?" Dustin beamed. "That's awesome, dude, I can't even be mad!"

Eduardo shrugged. "We'll see," he said. "So, yeah. I'm just going to go wait. For Mark." He gestured towards Mark's office. 

"Yeah, go ahead, man." Dustin waved a hand. "He should be in soon."

Eduardo nodded, throat stretching and bobbing as he swallowed, and turned away. 

"I am mad at you," said Dustin, turning to Chris. 

Chris rolled his eyes. "You didn't know for two days," he said. "Wardo just wanted to keep it quiet. I don't blame him. Who knows what'll happen."

"It's going to be good," said Dustin. "I know it is. Things've been fucked up long enough."

"I fucking hope so." Chris sighed. 

"Hey," said Dustin. He threw an arm over Chris's shoulder. "I changed my mind. I'm not mad anymore."

"I feel infinitely better," said Chris dryly. He was smiling, though, Dustin caught it in the corner of his eye, soft and hopeful, a lot like he felt. 

 

Dustin didn't think of himself as nosy. More like universally concerned. It was kind of a big deal, Mark walking unsuspectingly into an office full of Wardo, so really, it was in everyone's best interests that Dustin tag along behind Mark as he left the elevator, and lag out of sight in the corridor as he entered his office.

"Wardo," said Mark, stopping short in his doorway. 

His brow was furrowed, eyes darting about the office. The hollows in his cheeks looked deep, too deep, cupping the long end-of-day shadows, tired and dry. 

"Mark," said Eduardo, leaning back in Mark's chair. "I hear you've been looking for me."

"That's a bit of an understatement," said Mark. "Yeah."

"Why?" said Eduardo.

Mark scrubbed the back of one hand over his chin, and then dipped them both, heavy, into his jacket pockets. "You said you were in Singapore," said Mark. "You weren't."

"Most people, upon finding that out, would assume that me not telling you had something to do with the fact that I wanted to be left alone."

"Yeah," said Mark. 

Eduardo watched him silently. "I guess you're not most people," he said at last, sighing. 

"No," said Mark. "I think we established that a long time ago."

"But _why_ , Mark, I mean." Eduardo leaned forward. "I get that you don't like not knowing, but what did you think would happen once you found me?"

Mark shrugged. 

"Mark," said Eduardo. 

"I missed-- I miss you," said Mark. He rearranged his arms across his chest. "I don't. Yeah."

"Mark," said Eduardo again, quietly. 

"I don't know what else you want me to say, Wardo," said Mark. "I think my actions make it pretty clear what I-- what I think, and you know I tend to fuck things up when I speak, so."

"Your actions aren't as definitive as you think they are, either," said Eduardo, standing and walking around Mark's desk, closer to Mark in the doorway. "Especially when you consider them alongside your actions the last time we-- well."

"I-- yeah," said Mark. He nodded. "Okay. That makes sense." 

"What do you want, Mark?" said Eduardo. 

"I want," said Mark, "I want to know where you are."

"I'm right here," said Eduardo. 

"Okay," said Mark. He drew his lips between his teeth. "I want you to stay."

"I can't do that," said Eduardo softly. 

"Okay." Mark nodded. "Stay."

"Mark," said Eduardo. "I won't-- I can't stay, but I'll give you my phone number. If you want."

"Chris has your phone number," said Mark. "I'm pretty sure I can get it off him. I am his boss, technically."

"My home phone," said Eduardo.

"Oh," said Mark. 

"I'm leaving tomorrow," said Eduardo, "But you could use it, to call, and. Explain some things."

"I don't-- "

"Or just tell me how you're doing," said Eduardo. He pulled a card from his pocket, and slipped it into Mark's. "Don't lose it," he said. 

"I met your family," said Mark. "In Brazil. I don't think they like me very much."

"No," said Eduardo. "Well, a lot of people don't." He reached up to thumb at the corner of Mark's eye, dry skin scratching on dry skin. "How's your face?"

"Fine," said Mark. The corner of his mouth lifted. "I went to Portugal. I figured since you speak the language you might go there. You weren't there, but. It's kind of nice, like here a little bit, but also like Brazil, they have this-- "

"Mark," said Eduardo. "I'll pick up the phone when you call, okay? I promise."

"Wardo," said Mark. "I know you still kind of hate me, so. I can't-- I can't-- I don't want to look all over the world again. I totally will, if I have to, but. You weren't actually anywhere I looked, and I kind of miss my office. And my house," he added, as an afterthought. 

"Yeah," said Eduardo quietly. "Yeah, I get that you need that. I've-- well, I've had time to think about things. I still think it'll be better if I'm not here, right now, but I'll leave my address too, okay?"

Mark blinked, lashes stuttering like overzealous shutters, and nodded. "Okay."

"I'll see you at the meeting, Mark," said Eduardo, steering Mark towards the couch with a hand on the small of his back. "Get some sleep."

"Yeah," said Mark. "Okay. Wardo, are you-- "

Eduardo kissed him, sliding a hand up the sharp uneven column of his spine to cradle his skull and tilt his head back, wet and hot, dirty ragged breath and Mark's hand clutching at the shirt folded over his hip, blunt nails and sharp intent. 

"You're still an asshole," said Eduardo when he pulled back. Mark's mouth was open, slick, eyes wide and bleary. "But you're trying. I appreciate that."

"Wardo," said Mark. He worried at his lip, eyes on his hand where it was still clenched between them, Eduardo's shirt creasing through his knuckles. He looked back up. 

"I know," said Eduardo. "I'll see you later."

He left Mark curling into the couch, hands held against his chest. 

In the corridor, Dustin whooped. "Fucking finally," he told Eduardo, thumping his back. 

"Shut up, Dustin," said Eduardo, rolling his eyes and his shoulders, shaking something loose.

"Yeah." Dustin sighed. "I get that a lot."

 

("So I'm pretty sure," said Eduardo, hauling his suitcase with one hand and Mark with the other, "That everyone at Facebook thinks you've finally lost it."

"What?" said Mark, blinking slowly in the Portuguese morning light, "Why?"

"Because of that month you spent away from the offices completely," said Eduardo, "Looking for me, remember? And now you're going on vacation."

"Oh," said Mark. He frowned. "Well, I'm still CEO."

"It's not actually a bad thing, Mark." Eduardo rolled his eyes. 

"I brought my laptop with me, anyway," said Mark, oblivious.

"I hadn't noticed," said Eduardo dryly.

"I'm trying to come up with something a little cleaner for the login page," Mark continued. 

"That's great, Mark," said Eduardo, "That's really, really awesome, except we're in Portugal, remember that place you've been trying to get me to come see with you for the last four months? And I was kind of hoping there'd be more sex than coding while we're here."

Mark stopped walking. "Huh," he said. 

"Seriously?" said Eduardo. 

"No," said Mark. He bit his lip. "I just thought you might want to look around, it's a pretty cool place, really, I'd kind of like to see it while I'm not preoccupied with looking for you-- "

"No, you'll just be preoccupied with recoding the login page-- "

"-- maybe not everything, it does get quite hot, but since you came here you really should look around, Wardo. But also sex. Sex is totally cool, too."

Eduardo stared. Mark's lips were bitten, red and wet. His duffel bag was pulling his t-shirt away from his neck, and the skin there was pale, soft-looking, stretched tight over bone. His hair was sticking in damp curls to the nape of his neck, and a little flat at the back, too many hours in an airplane seat. 

There was still a faint red tinge staining his left cheek where he'd spent the last two hours of the flight with it pillowed on the ball of Eduardo's shoulder.

He looked hopeful in too many ways, loose and open, and Eduardo's chest hurt. 

"Hey," he said, tightening his fingers around Mark's. "Remember when I said I appreciated that you were trying? I still do."

"Oh," said Mark. "Yeah. Me, too. That you're here, I mean, and. Everything." He looked away.

"So here's an idea," said Eduardo. "Just a thought. How about we find the hotel with the best, most expensive view, which you're paying for, of course-- "

Mark opened his mouth. 

"-- No arguing, this was your idea-- "

"-- I was just going to say that obviously I'm paying-- "

"-- _And_ ," said Eduardo, "You can blow me by the window. Kill two birds with one stone."

Mark blinked. His mouth was open. Eduardo ducked down to kiss it, a quiet kiss, bringing the hand from his suitcase up to curve over the peak of Mark's spine, pushing through his hair, a lingering thing like the bleeding warmth of the rising sun through the airport glass.

"Your suitcase," said Mark, pulling back after a long moment.

"What?" said Eduardo. 

"Don't leave baggage unattended," said Mark absently. His eyes were on Eduardo's mouth.

"Your dirty talk needs work," said Eduardo, but he grinned against Mark's cheek, resettling the suitcase in his hand, Mark's fingers still folded into his other, a little sweaty, solid and warm.)


End file.
